Love is for Losers
by RupertsPheonix
Summary: Dominique Weasley is not your average witch-she detests relationships that are cutesy and doesn't think true romance is real. But what happens when she's confronted with her Quidditch captain, Garrett Goldstein? We she decide that maybe a relationship is worth pursuing, or will love forever be for losers? [Dom/OC] [Mature Content]
1. Chapter 1

**_Story Disclaimer: JKR owns the universe, and I own the clothes on my back. She is a genius, and I'm just having fun._**

* * *

**_CHAPTER ONE_**

I hate weddings. I absolutely hate cutesy couples. You know, the type that sit on the same side of the table at restaurants and just can't stop touching each other and feeding each other? The kind who say the most disgustingly cheesy things to each other? "Oh, honey bear, how's your pasta? Is everything absolutely perfect for my ickle honey bear?"

That's the point when I wish the killing curse wasn't illegal.

But mostly, I really, really despise the girl who wants to grow up and be a housewife. She practices making extravagant dinners for their "Mr. Prince Charming," and she has a scrapbook of pictures taken at other women's weddings which are supposed to piece together her own future ceremony. She starts naming children before she has a ring on her dainty finger, before the "lucky guy" even knows her middle name.

Yeah, I'm Dominique Weasley, and I'm one hundred percent certain that love is for losers.

It just so happens that I'm getting ready for a wedding right now. One that I'm in. My big sister Victoire is getting married to Teddy Lupin today. In about three hours, actually.

A French hairdresser is standing behind me, plaiting, twisting, and curling my hair. I feel her magically attaching rhinestone hairpins throughout, and she's using a very strong sticking charm, from the feel of it.

My sister, Victoire, is bounding around with nervous energy.

"Does everyone have their bridesmaid dresses? And bouquets?"

I guess I forgot to mention that there are five of us in the bridal party. And our dresses, as cliché as it is, are disgustingly ugly. They're big and marigold—to match the bouquets _of course_—and they have these giant matching bows on the back that my sister insists are just "so gorgeous!"

I'm going to look like a giant blob of mustard.

We all tell her yes—yes we've remembered everything on the _most important day of your life._

Forget the fact that she was Head Girl at Hogwarts, that she got Outstanding marks on_all_ of her NEWTs, that she had a career at the _Daily Prophet_ before she stepped off of the Hogwarts Express after her graduation. Forget all of those facts. Clearly, this wedding was the _only_ day in her life that mattered.

Ridiculous, isn't it?

The hairdresser stops and holds up a mirror. My reflection makes me snort. This was Victoire's idea of an appropriate bridesmaid hairdo?

My hair looks like a group of pigeons needed a home and decided to nest atop my head.

"Vic," I say uncertainly. She turns, her long silvery-red hair whipping around behind her, and I point to my pigeon nest. She claps her hands together in delight, and I can't stifle my groan of disappointment as she squeals.

"Oh, my goodness! Doesn't it just look _so_ good, Dom?" She seems to float toward me, and I cringe as she smiles even wider. "Now all we have left to do on you is have your makeup applied and then put your dress on!"

"Vic, don't you think I can do my own makeup—?"

"Oh, no," she says, pulling me to my feet. "You've got to match everyone else. Besides, I have one of the best makeup artists here. Her name is Betsy, and she's standing over there. Go tell her I said to use the gold glitter, okay? I'm going to go get ready now."

She bounces off, smile growing wider and wider. I stomp my way over to Betsy.

"My sister said something about gold glitter." I know I don't sound very pleased, probably because I'm not.

Betsy smiles at me in response and ushers me into a chair. And the face painting begins. 

* * *

This whole wedding thing is irritating me. Everyone keeps talking about how my sister_looks so incredibly_ _gorgeous_ and my new brother-in-law is _just the sweetest thing_, oh and we can't forget the ever-so-popular _aren't they just going to be the happiest couple?_

I want to jump off a bridge when people talk like that.

My mum and dad are dancing along with the bride and groom and all of the other people who happened to actually bring a "plus one" to the wedding (including my fourteen year old brother, Louis). I, obviously, didn't bring a plus-one, and therefore I'm sitting at one of the many round tables that surround the dance floor, sipping white wine, and looking at anything other than the dancing figures before me.

I turn to my left and see Garrett Goldstein standing by the pillar of the large white tent.

Garrett Goldstein is a fellow Hufflepuff (yeah, that's right—I'm the only Weasley in Hufflepuff), except that he's a year older than me, so we've never had any classes together. But we do have Quidditch practice together, so we're on friendly terms.

He must feel my stare because he turns and smiles at me, meeting my gaze. He steps toward me, and I pull out the chair next to me, gesturing for him to sit down.

"Looking good, Weasley," he says, grinning. "Nice dress."

I gesture at my gown. "What, you mean this old thing?"

He laughs easily, and I roll my eyes. "This wedding is kind of sickening, isn't it?" I say, picking up my glass of wine and taking a swig.

I feel him watching me, and he shrugs. "I think the cherub ice sculpture is what puts it over the top," he jokes, nodding toward the sculpture of the baby with too-small wings.

"Are you sure it isn't the champagne waterfall behind the altar?" I ask dryly.

Garrett shakes his head, and I can tell he's biting back a laugh. "No, I think that's just plain old romantic, Dominique."

I snort. "Romantic. Right."

I notice that Garrett is looking at my wine glass, and he says, "Your glass is empty. Want me to visit the waterfall for you?"

I shake my head and reach beneath the tablecloth. Garrett lets out a surprised burst of laughter as I pull out a half-empty bottle of wine.

"I should have known my chivalry wouldn't be accepted. Always have a better plan, don't you?"

I shrug, pouring more wine into my glass. I offer the bottle to him, but he shakes his head.

"Keep your stash for yourself, Weasley," he says, a grin sliding over his lips. "I couldn't bear to take it from you."

I laugh and nod my thanks. "You're too kind, Goldstein."

"I do what I can," he says.

We look at each other for a few minutes, silent. His eyes are a really deep shade of brown—so brown that they could almost be black. He's wearing a navy blue set of dress robes with a silver tie, and his brown hair is kind of wind-swept looking.

He's fit.

"You want to dance?" he asks suddenly.

I blink. I've just admitted to how fit I think he is. And we're friends. There's nothing wrong with dancing. I might as well make this ridiculous wedding fun. Especially since it's turned into Teddy's favorite song that he had begged Victoire to play, _A Cauldron Stirring Good Time_, which is clearly the most up-beat, fun song by the Weird Sisters to date.

Garrett is still waiting for an answer. I nod. "Yeah, why the hell not?"

He grins, and we walk out to the dance floor. 

* * *

**_A/N: _**_Chapter one down. Let me know what you think! :)_


	2. Chapter 2

**_CHAPTER TWO_**

I'm laughing so hard that I think I might pee. I verbalize this to Garrett, who laughs loudly.

"I think we've had too much wine," he's saying, but he's grabbing me another glass anyway, and now he's back, handing me my drink and dancing on me goofily and almost obscenely. I laugh harder.

I know that look my father's giving me from the table that he's sitting at with my mum and a few of my uncles. It's the face that I often get from him, the one that says _thank Merlin one of my kids likes to have fun_.

I grin at him and turn back to Garrett, who is still dancing like a crazed man. I can feel my red tresses dropping from the fancy up-do, and I shake my head, letting more slip out of the sticking charm. Garrett is grinning like a madman, and he pulls playfully at one of my curls, and we laugh as it bounces back like a spring.

The song comes to an end, and it's finally a slow tune. Garrett raises an eyebrow in question. I shrug my shoulders, but I'm smiling when he slips his arms around my waist.

"You're fun," he whispers, his mouth next to my ear as we're swaying.

"And you're drunk."

He pulls away enough to face me and his dark eyes are sparkling with laughter. "Only a bit."

I laugh again. I've been doing that a lot tonight, actually, which is quite nice. I've made eye contact with both Teddy and Vic, who've both just looked ecstatic that I've stopped sulking in the corner.

* * *

I know that my sister is leaving now for her honeymoon, and that after said honeymoon she'll no longer share a room (or magazines) with me, and I should be sad, but I'm more sad that I won't get to see Garrett until Quidditch starts up this fall.

It's not that I'm falling for him (because, hello, love _is_ for losers), but I had so much fun tonight, and I don't want to stop laughing with him.

He did hug me goodbye.

Not that I'm hung up on that or anything.

I am definitely not sitting in my room right now, still in my bridesmaid gown, thinking about laughing and drinking and dancing with Garrett Goldstein.

There's a knock at my door, and my dad comes into my room.

"Hey, little one," he says. I watch him take in my appearance, and I expect him to say it before he does. "I thought you would be just dying to change out of that dress."

"I am," I say immediately. "It's stupid and uncomfortable."

Dad smirks. "Sure. So who was this boy you were dancing with? I didn't think you had brought a date."

I can feel the ever-so-famous Weasley blush creeping up my face. "He wasn't my plus one."

"Plus one?" Dad's laughing at my word choice, and I smile, too. "Who is he then?"

"Garrett Goldstein. He's on the Quidditch team with me," I say, not meeting Dad's blue eyes which match my own exactly. "I think he came with his parents, who work with Teddy."

Dad nods. "Well. He was certainly fond of you, little one."

I wave the comment off. "Nah. We were just having fun. He's a friend."

I had actually never considered Garrett a friend before tonight. An acquaintance, sure. A teammate, definitely. But a friend? Not specifically. But today he was the only one who cheered me up at the one type of lovely-dovey event I absolutely hated.

"Okay, Dom," Dad says, finally dropping the subject. "Get to bed, kiddo. Your mum is taking you and Louis to Diagon Alley to get your school stuff tomorrow."

I nod. "Okay. Night, Daddy."

"G'night."

He closes the door as he leaves, and I'm left alone in my room to think about the previous conversation. I unzip my dress and step out of it. I note that it's really very sad when a dress can stand without you in it. I slip into an old band t-shirt (The Magic Carpet, from their album _Free Rides for Witches Like You_) and a pair of pyjama bottoms. Once dressed, I make my way toward my bed, and in the process of getting there, I kick my dress from its standing position onto the floor.

I remember what Dad said. _He was certainly fond of you, little one._

Garrett isn't fond of me.

Well, I mean, I _am_ a bloody fantastic Beater.

And I'm obviously a lot of fun when drunk.

But that doesn't mean he's _fond_ of me.

I probably don't even _want_ him to be fond of me.

Probably.

Ugh. Whatever.

* * *

Louis is driving me insane. He's actually looking through Flourish and Blotts for extra reading material. As in, the kid actually wants to do out of class reading on actual class subject matter.

What a freak of nature.

I mean, I love my little brother. But, again, what a freak.

My mum thinks it's absolutely adorable that he wants to do extra reading. She says I should be more like him, maybe I'd get more Os rather than As and Es.

Sorry, but… Fat chance, Mum.

I pick up a book on Quidditch maneuvers instead. I hold it up to her, and she rolls her eyes but nods anyway. I plop the book on top of my stack of school books and tap my fingers to the beat of that Weird Sisters' song that Garrett and I danced to last night.

Mum catches me doing it, and I stop immediately. I don't need to her to start asking about Garrett when there's clearly nothing to ask about anyway. I decide to change the subject before it's even brought up.

"Merlin, Lou, save me a title or two to buy you for Christmas, would you?"


	3. Chapter 3

**_CHAPTER THREE_**

Garrett sent me a letter. His owl was just tapping away like crazy at my bedroom window when Mum, Louis, and I got home from Diagon Alley. I was just putting together all of my school supplies when I heard his beak first hit the glass.

At first, I thought it was my best friend, Millie, who had missed the wedding due to a conflict with her family's yearly holiday to the Mediterranean. But when I realised it wasn't Millie's neat cursive writing on the envelope, I was incredibly confused.

I've been staring at the parchment for a solid ten minutes or so now.

_Weasley—_

_Tell your sister and Lupin that they know how to throw one hell of a party—champagne waterfall and all._

_In all seriousness, I had a lot of fun last night. I hope I didn't dance too inappropriately (although my mother seems to think that I "flew right out of the quidditch pitch of decency!"), but if I made you uncomfortable at all, my sincere apologies. _

_That being said, I hope you had as much fun as I did. If so, a couple of us seventh-year quidditch players are meeting in a compartment on September 1, and I made an executive decision as captain to invite you. We'll be in the second car on the train, first compartment if you're up for sitting with us._

_—__Garrett_

I'm seriously trying not to freak out, but boys don't usually send me letters over the summer. Well, some of them do, but those are usually situations I try to avoid… I'm not the kind of girl that thinks clingy is cute. In fact, I'm not really the kind of girl who is attracted to anything that could be remotely called cute. Usually.

Garrett Goldstein is clearly throwing my mojo off, and I am not liking it.

Except that I kind of am.

I had a lot of fun with him last night, which is really saying something, considering I thought it would be in my top ten worst nights ever.

I slam my face into my desktop.

"Dominique? What are you doing up zhere, young lady?" My mother's voice is concerned, and I know she's about to come in and ask if I want to talk about it.

"What iz going on?" she says, leaning on my doorframe, her pretty, silvery hair slung over her shoulder.

I shrug. "Nothing. Just thinking."

"About?"

I lie quickly. "About how I need to pack all of this junk up so we can leave this weekend."

She nods, probably knowing I'm lying (because mothers always seem to know stuff like that), and smiles, "Okay, well, if you need me, I vill be in ze kitchen."

"Thanks, Mum," I say, standing up from my desk chair and walking to my dresser. In the split second before she leaves, I decide to reveal my boy troubles. (I hate myself for even using that phrase.)

"Mum, if a boy writes you a letter and asks you to sit with him and his friends on the train, are you supposed to write back?"

She pauses, bites her lip, obviously holding back a knowing grin, and nods her head. "Yez, but do not zend it until tomorrow. Mystery is your bezz friend, Dominique."

And my wonderful mother has the good grace to smile and step away without asking any further questions. I love her. 

I have been trying to write this godforsaken letter for over an hour. I finally decide to re-read his letter for the millionth time and just respond to his question.

It hits me.

_Goldstein—_

_Really subtle way to announce yourself as captain. Just kidding—kind of. Congrats! Though I do expect to be excused from the tryout process this season… I mean, you did gyrate on me and out of the quidditch pitch of decency and all._

_See you on the train._

_—__Dominique_

I figure that's sarcastic and funny, right? Not out of character, either… I finally applaud myself on a letter well written and seal the envelope. I plop it on top of my desk and plan to send it tomorrow morning.

Mum calls me to the kitchen shortly after I close up the letter, and I realise in the time I spent writing my response, Dad has already gotten home.

"Dinner iz ready," Mum says, levitating four plates from the counter to the table.

"Smells amazing, love," Dad says, pecking Mum on the cheek and then sitting down. Dad takes a swig of butterbeer before turning to me. "Did you get everything you need for school?"

I nod. "Yep, I'm all set. All I've got left is packing."

Louis butts in, "I've already gotten my packing done."

I kick him under the table. "That's because you've got nothing better to do, you little git."

Mum chides me and tells me to eat my dinner, but Dad looks slightly amused at the two of us. We eat the rest of our dinner listening to Dad tell us about what's new at Gringotts and wondering how Victoire and Teddy are liking their honeymoon on the beach. 


	4. Chapter 4

_**CHAPTER FOUR**_

It's September first, it's nine thirty in the morning, and I'm just now packing my trunk for Hogwarts. I look around my room, gauging which belongings are most important to bring with me this year. Socks, panties, bras, of course. Pyjamas, t-shirts, makeup. Toiletries, my favorite pillow, my two new posters—one for the Appleby Arrows and one from the concert I went to this summer where the up-and-coming band, Cauldron's Brew, played and gave out free posters. I see my grey ankle boots and haphazardly throw those in, too. My text books are next, then plenty of parchment, quills, ink bottles, and potion supplies. Dragon hide gloves for quidditch.

"There," I say to myself. "All done."

Now all I have to do is figure out what in the world I'm wearing today.

I haven't had this oh-my-God-what-in-Merlin's-name-will-I-wear-to-impress-him feeling in almost a year, and it's making my stomach churn. I almost hate myself for feeling this way, all because Garrett Goldstein asked me to sit with him (and other Quidditch players, too, I remind myself).

But the last time a boy made my stomach feel like a bludger was let loose in it was probably last year, at about this time, when I thought I was falling _in love _(yes, I know how stupid that sounds) with Jake Smith. He was a sixth year on the Quidditch team with me, and he is, now that I think about it, not nearly as attractive as I let myself believe. He has light brown hair that reaches just past his ears, and he is a bigger sort of fellow, and I don't mean in muscles. Yeah, he plays Quidditch, so he has to be strong and somewhat fit, but he's sort of a husky bloke. And he's tall—maybe a quarter of a metre taller than Garrett, and Garrett isn't a short bloke.

Anyway, Jake Smith caught my attention during practice. I'd known him for a while, of course, since I'd played on the team since my third year and I'm sixteen now, but I hadn't ever paid much attention to him before this one day, early in September at a team practice. He'd laughed at some smart arse comment I'd made, and then we were hanging out after practices and acting like best mates. Then suddenly we'd started snogging and, eventually, it lead to a whole lot more.

But I guess "a whole lot more" is different for blokes than it is for birds. Here I was, thinking that I was in some sort of relationship with Jake, and then, after a match brilliantly won by our team, I walked into the common room, eager to find him and celebrate, I found him lip-locked with Nicola Dodger—this girl in his year that is rather busty and also rather ridiculous (and I'm _not_ just saying that because he snogged her in the middle of the common room, I swear). She's one of those giggling girls—like Vic on her wedding day, but only way less bearable. She's ridiculous all the time.

So I didn't talk to him for a few weeks, and, yes, maybe I was immature enough to refuse to fly laps with him at practices, but eventually things cooled off, and at least now I can stand the sight of him. Usually.

When he finally asked me why I had been acting like he didn't exist, I told him that I just thought he had started a relationship with Nicola, and when he started to object, I told him I wasn't really the relationship kind of girl, so it didn't matter to me either way. And at that point, I swore off cutesy, meaningless relationships.

The problem now is that I'd finally stopped making myself feel this horrible and yet thrilling oh-my-God-what-will-I-wear feeling that is currently plaguing my gut, and now Garrett Goldstein has brought that back.

And I'm not remotely happy about it.

Okay, well, I'm not livid about it, but I'm still not over the moon with joy, okay?

I finally decide on wearing my school skirt, a band t-shirt (Smashing Pumpkins from their tour two summers ago), and my favourite shiny silver ballet flats. I stare at my hair in the mirror—it'll have to do today in its usual kinky, curly, messy style. I toss on some eyeliner and mascara, grab my trunk, and head down the stairs to the kitchen.

Mum, Dad, and Louis are all standing in the kitchen; Mum's drinking a mug of hot tea, and Dad and Louis are each eating a plate of eggs and ham. Mum gestures to a third plate on the counter, and I dig in.

"Thanks, Mum."

She nods at me as she swallows a sip of her tea. "You are ready, yez?"

"Yeah, I finally finished packing." I shovel some more eggs into my mouth.

"Eez Millie going to be riding viz uz today?"

I shake my head. "Nah, her mum is dropping her off on her way to work. We'll see her at the platform."

Now that Mum has mentioned Millie, I realize that I've forgotten to tell her that I won't be riding with her. Usually, she, Randall Thomas, Archie Worthington, and I ride together. We're all in the same year in Hufflepuff, and Millie is my best friend, but Randall and Archie are definitely good mates of ours, too. Archie's actually been a reserve player for the house Quidditch team the past few years, so we have quite a bit in common.

I wonder how they'll react to me ditching them to sit with a bunch of seventh years.

"Lost in thought, kiddo?"

I look up at Dad and nod. I guess I've been quiet for a little too long. "Thinking about Quidditch."

"That's my girl," he says, grinning. "I'm hoping to come to a match or two this term. You'll let me know as soon as you get the schedule, right?"

"Sure, Dad," I say, spearing a piece of ham with my fork. "Mum, will you try to come too?"

She smiles, and, as I often am when she smiles, I am reminded of how beautiful my mum really is. I don't even think it's just the Veela blood—I think my mother is a truly radiant woman. It's no wonder Dad fell in love with her. Sometimes I wish that Vic hadn't inherited all of the stunning looks. I mean, I love my red hair with streaks of strawberry blonde (although I sometimes wish I had Victore's unique and beautiful silvery, red hair), but I wish my skin looked as smooth and flawless as Vic's—my freckles are a damn curse—and I wish that I had her slender hips. Grandmum Weasley always says that when I have children I'll be thankful for my wide-set hips, and I usually just laugh and tell her she's going batty in her old age. So when Mum or Vic smiles like Mum is smiling at me right now, I find myself a very jealous girl.

"Of courze, Dominique," she says. "If I can be zhere, I vill."

Dad grins at me, sets his dirty dish in the sink, and announces, "Time to go to the platform!"


	5. Chapter 5

_**CHAPTER FIVE**_

Platform 9 ¾ is packed, but it only takes Millie about three seconds to find me and shriek my name.

"Dominique! DOMINIQUE WEASLEY!"

Millie is rushing towards me, and suddenly she's enveloped me in a huge hug. I'm being smothered by bright pink and blonde and squeals. I laugh.

"Millie, I can hardly breathe!"

"Sorry," she says, pulling back from me and grinning. Millie has a round face, a short dirty-blonde bob, and bright blue eyes. She's a heavy-set girl with a huge chest, and it's extra noticeable in her neon pink v-neck shirt. She's probably six or seven centimetres shorter than me, and I look down at her and grin.

"You're really tan—I guess your holiday to the Mediterranean when well, then?"

She nods. "Oh, it was amazing—I'll have to tell you about it on the way to the castle."

I lick my bottom lip nervously. "About that… Garrett Goldstein has asked me to sit with him and a few of the seventh year Quidditch players."

Millie stares at me. "Garrett Goldstein asked you? And you're going?"

I shrug, trying to be nonchalant. "Yeah. He and I hung out a little at Vic's wedding, and he asked me."

"And you said yes? Dom, _what_ did I miss at that wedding? You have to tell me everything tonight!"

I agree, and, after hugging both my parents and my brother, she runs off to find Archie and Randall. I turn to hug my parents and say goodbye. After Mum gets a little tearful and Dad jokingly ruffles my already ridiculously messy hair, I make my way to the train.

I board the Hogwarts Express, and, after saying hello to four different cousins and three different classmates, I finally make it to the second car of the train and make to enter the first compartment when I hear the unmistakable voice of Donny Longbottom, a seventh year Hufflepuff who is a dear friend of our family and who hangs out with Garrett and Jake often.

"Don't get your wand in a knot, Garrett," he says, "I'm sure she's on her way. We've still got four minutes until the train leaves."

Then I hear the voice that I really didn't prepare myself for—Jake.

"I don't know why you're so set on her sitting with us anyway. We all know Dominique can be a right bitch some times. Who wants to deal with that?"

I bite my lip and reconsider sitting with them. If Jake is there and is already saying that I'm horrible and unbearable, then maybe I should just go back and sit with Millie…

"Shut up, Jake," Garrett says. "If you hadn't gone and treated her like shit, you wouldn't have forced her to be a bitch to you in the first place."

"Yeah, and even on her worst day, Dom isn't anywhere near as bad as that stupid bint you cart around with you now," Donny adds.

I grin to myself. Maybe this compartment won't be so bad after all.

"Nicola isn't a bint," Jake snaps.

I step forward and slide open the door. "Hi."

Garrett sits up on the bench from a leaning position against the window and grins at me. About a metre away from him is Donny, who nods to me and smiles easily. Jake is across from them, and I watch as he forces his face into a neutral expression.

"Hey," Garrett says. He stands up and offers to help me lift my trunk into the overhead carriage. I let him stow it away for me, and I notice the taut-looking muscles in his forearms as he lifts it.

Okay, whoa, down girl.

The train takes off out of the station, and then Donny pats the bench beside him. I sit next to him and lay my head on his shoulder. "Hi, Don," I say.

He grins down at me. "Hey, Dom. How's your summer been?"

I shrug. "Pretty average. Went to a few concerts, my sister got married..."

Donny nods. "Yeah, that was one hell of a wedding. I've never seen so many Weasleys in one place."

I snort, and then immediately think that may have been unattractive. I guess Garrett doesn't mind because he sits down next to me anyway. I watch him appraise me with a quick look up and down, and then Donny's got my attention again.

"Who do you think will be next?"

"For what?" I ask stupidly.

"To get married. Out of all you redheads, I mean."

Jake finally speaks. "Well it sure as hell won't be Dominique. She's a total ice queen—not a relationship kinda girl, right?"

I raise an eyebrow and stare at my former... well, my former shagging mate, to put it bluntly. "I'm going to ignore that for the moment instead of reminding you that I simply didn't want to be in a relationship with the likes of a bumbling idiot who couldn't undo my bra much less sustain a legitimate relationship." I pause—and during this time Donny has laughed so hard that tears come out of his left eye, Garrett is smirking like a madman just having escaped from Azkaban, and Jake looks pissed—before turning to face my dear family friend. "And Donny, you know as well as I do that if Molly heard you ask that, she'd kill you. Hell, she may kill Brian if he doesn't propose soon."

He stops laughing to stare at me quizzically. "May?"

"Okay, she definitely will."

We break into a fit of laughter, and it isn't interrupted until the door gets shoved open by a manicured set of fingers.

"Jakey!"

Ugh. Kill me now.

Nicola walks into the compartment and immediately plops herself on Jake's lap. She's chomping bubble gum, and I wrinkle my nose when she blows a bubble and Jake pops it for her with his teeth.

"Jesus," Garrett mutters under his breath. I look at him and grin, amused at his vocalized irritation.

Donny clears his throat. "Are we going to have to get a new compartment so you two can swap saliva in privacy?"

Nicola flips her long, curly blonde hair over her shoulder and turns to look at the rest of us. "Oh, _hey_! I didn't see you all!"

"Right," Garrett says, "Well, we're here, and we'd rather not have front row seats to your poor attempt at a lap dance."

I bite back a laugh, forcing myself to cough instead. Donny smacks my back, but I see a smirk playing on his lips.

I notice that Jake and Garrett seem to be having a stare-off; neither one of them will blink or look away, and Donny finally clears his throat again, and Garrett glares for a second longer and then looks at me.

"You want to get out of here?"

I blink. "Uh, yeah, sure."

He stands up, and I follow his lead. Donny looks pissed at us for ditching him, but I just shrug my shoulders and step out of the compartment anyway. Garrett closes the sliding door behind me.

"Sorry about them. Jake's a git, and Nicola's even worse."

He starts down the corridor, and I fall into step beside him. "You don't have to tell me."

He looks at me for a minute and then nods. "Yeah, he was kind of an arse to you."

I try to sound unemotional when I reply. "Kind of, but it's whatever."

He appraises me as we continue to walk toward the back of the car, where a door leads to a small open deck that links to the next car. I wait for him to say something.

"I don't really know much about what happened last year, but it was pretty bad, wasn't it?"

I shrug. "I guess so… Why do you ask?"

He looks me up and down again, then looks me in the eye for a few long moments. His eyes are piercing and dark, and I simultaneously want to look away and get lost in them. I remind myself to blink and breathe.

"You both tensed up when Nicola came in, and I know you probably felt awkward when she climbed on top of him like that."

I roll my eyes. "She's marking her territory, as though I have ever been a threat to her. Even I know better than that, Garrett."

He opens the door for me and lets me step out onto the open platform. He pulls a cigarette out of his shirt pocket and lights it with a tarnished silver Zippo lighter.

"What does that mean?" he asks, exhaling a cloud of smoke. He offers me his cigarette, and I accept and take a small drag. It stings my throat and lungs, but I don't mind the sensation sometimes. I let out a puff of smoke before I reply.

"I dunno. It doesn't mean anything, really. She's just… She's just Nicola, and she gets what she wants, so it doesn't matter."

He takes the cigarette back and takes another drag. I watch the muscles in his neck move.

"You should stand up for yourself. You seem like the kind of girl that goes after what she wants, Dominique. You certainly didn't hold back after he called you an ice queen."

I catch his gaze and hold it. "Yeah, well, I don't want Jake. Honestly, Garrett, I try to leave the past in the past—and that's where Jake is." I look away and stare at my finger nails—my purple polish is chipped in places.

He takes another drag and releases. "Is that where you want him?"

"Yeah." I look up at him again and grin. "I couldn't handle Jake all the time. I don't know how you and Donny do it."

He laughs, and it's a deep, throaty chuckle that makes my stomach flip. "I don't do a very good job at handling him. We're usually fighting about something."

"He has more drama than a group of girls," I say, voicing my thought from earlier.

Garrett nods as he takes another drag from his cigarette. "Yeah, that's true. Probably why he can't ever keep a girlfriend."

"Hasn't he kept Nicola for a while now?"

Garrett laughs again, and this time it's almost humourless. "No—they break up every other day, it seems. He's always pissing her off or she's pissing him off or they're pissing each other off at the same time. It's a damn mess."

"Jake likes things messy, doesn't he?" I ask, thinking about last year and hating myself for doing it.

He seems to know what I'm thinking about. He pauses, then nudges me in the shoulder with his own and grins at me. "Talk about messy—you should see his corner of the dormitory."

I smile softly—I've seen it before, actually, but I don't mention that to Garrett. "I bet." I take the cigarette again when he offers it, and silence settles over us for a minute. I hand it back to him, and he takes the last drag before tossing it over the rail. The deck isn't very large, and a group of students comes out of one car to head into the other, and Garrett and I get shoved together as they pass.

"Oh," I say, surprised.

His hands are on my upper arms and mine are planted firmly on his chest. Damn, this boy is fit. The spots where any part of his body touch any part of mine are buzzing with energy. My mind feels fuzzy.

His eyes are locked on mine, and the students have passed, but we're still staring at each other, hands still stuck to one another.

And then Garrett blinks and everything changes. We both let go, and then suddenly I'm angry at myself for getting caught up in his muscles and his eyes…

"Should we go back in?" he asks.

"Do you think they've stopped making animal noises?" I reply, and he laughs.

"I hope so—for Donny's sake."

We laugh, all awkwardness gone, on the way back to the compartment.

_**A/N: I apologize for the long wait for Chapters 4 &amp; 5 - I have been so busy with graduate school and work, but I've had a week off of work (I work at a university and we've gotten a ridiculous amount of ice that our area was unprepared for) and have gotten re-energized in the HP fanfic world. I will do my best to work on these fics when I have time, though I can't promise steady/regular updates. Thanks for your read &amp; review! -Kate/RP**_


	6. Chapter 6

**_CHAPTER SIX_**

Donny is livid with us for leaving him there, but by the time we get back, Jake and Nicola have gone to sit with her friends, and a few others have joined the compartment in their places. Zara Tailor, our beautiful dark-skinned, seventh year Chaser, is sitting in Jake's seat, with her long dark hair braided and beaded. Beside her is Archie, whom I am very excited to see, and next to him is Jaylen Corner, our fifth year Chaser.

"Hey, Captain," Zara says, beaming at Garrett as we step into the compartment. "We all came to see you and ask about tryouts."

Garrett grins. "I don't know when we can host them yet, but you lot know you'll be the first to know about them."

Jaylen smirks and flips her jet black, shiny hair over her shoulder. "We better be the first!"

Archie stands up and hugs me enthusiastically. "Dom! How was your sister's wedding?"

I shrug. "It was fine." I make eye contact with Garrett over Archie's shoulder, and then look back to my bespectacled friend. "They had a shit guest list."

Donny and Garrett both protest loudly, and Archie and I laugh together. I plop down beside Donny again, and everyone begins to chat idly.

Archie looks around. "Well, I'm headed back to Millie and Randall. I really only came to see Dom anyway." Everyone else shrugs, expecting this, and Archie leans over and kisses me on the cheek sweetly. "See you at Hogwarts, Dom."

After he leaves, I feel Garrett's eyes on me. I turn to look at him, and then Zara screeches.

"Oh, my Merlin! Dominique, Jaylen, have you read the latest _Witch_ _Weekly_ article about Marvin Handler?"

I blink. I don't even know who that is. I verbalize this, and Jaylen and Zara screech again. They tell me that he is a famous broomstick model and then proceed to ask me if my head's been in a box all summer.

I roll my eyes as they begin their chit chat about this Marvin Handler bloke. I turn to look at Donny, but his nose is stuffed in a book about magical uses for chimera blood, so I turn to Garrett.

He's watching me as I'm taking everything in, and I'm startled by the realization that he's been looking at me pretty much the whole time that the train has been in motion. I grin at him and wait for him to smile back, acknowledge that I've caught him looking at me again.

He just smiles back, and he doesn't seem bothered that I've seen him watching me, appraising me again.

"I like your shirt," he says suddenly.

I look down and am reminded that I'm wearing my Smashing Pumpkins t-shirt. "Thanks."

"Have you seen them live?" he asks.

"A few summers ago. I went to their London stop on their summer tour, and they were throwing around free t-shirts."

"Yeah, they're really good live. Although I like The Magic Carpet better."

I feel my jaw drop. "Me too! They're like my favourite band ever."

Garrett grins. "Favourite album?"

"_Free Rides for Witches Like You_."

"Shit, I knew there was a reason I liked you," he says, still grinning.

I open my mouth to reply, when the compartment door falls open again and Jake walks in with Nicola wrapped under his arm.

"Come on, Kitten," he says, "It's not that big of a deal."

"Did you just call her 'Kitten'?" Donny asks, looking up from his book and sounding utterly bewildered.

"It's his pet name for me," Nicola coos.

Donny looks disturbed. "That'd be like me calling someone 'Hamster.'"

I burst into laughter. Zara, Jaylen, and Garrett are also doubled over, and Jake and Nicola look absolutely livid. Jake spots me glancing at them as I laugh and he spits, "Why're you laughing, Dominique? You used to love it when I called you 'Legs'—that's way fucking worse!"

I stop laughing instantly. Did he really just say that? Nicola looks beyond pissed, and I'm sure that my expression isn't any kinder.

"Whoa, whoa, hold up there a moment," Zara says, shaking her pointer finger at Jake. "I distinctly remember having to listen to you lot talk about Dominique's nickname—and if memory serves me right, you said it was something of a testament to her long, fit legs."

I feel myself going pink. Zara winks at me, and I manage a small smile of thanks for her sticking up for me—even if it is awkward to know that they (whoever _they_ included) had talked about me.

Lucky for me, Nicola rounds on Jake and steals back the attention, letting me escape a rather awkward moment.

"You son of a bitch, Jake," she cries, standing up and glaring at him. "What, you can't think of anything _fit_ enough about me to make a nickname of it?"

He grows almost comically wide-eyed before she lets out a huff and leaves the compartment.

"Dammit," he says, looking back at all of us. "Thanks a lot," he snaps and follows her down the corridor.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

Garrett looks at me and grins. "Well, _Legs_, you've just witnessed the first fight of the term."

I feel myself going pink again; Garrett using that nickname—even ironically—is somehow so much sexier than when Jake used it… Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me?

"Don't I feel privileged."

Garrett laughs. "Don't we all."


End file.
